Strangers in Lothlorien
by Iris Green1
Summary: Legolas wonders why Haldir is acting as if they've never met. L/H, A/B
1. Strangers

Disclaimer: I am not making money off of this. It's all Tolkien.  
Author's Note: Wow… This is my first "serious" attempt at fanfiction. (Arbre Rouge does not count.) Please don't flame, but constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated.   
6/29/02: Minor corrections made.   
  
I should have known better.  
In the midst of Mithrandir's death and Frodo's instability, it was cliché that we were marching into the homeland of my lover, one whom I had not seen in half of a century. My heart leapt in my chest as we entered Lothlòrien. Haldir had told me so much of his homeland when we lay beneath the trees of Mirkwood. I yearned to find myself once again entangled in his arms, breathing his peculiar scent of foreign evergreen glades. Forcing myself back into the present, I began to babble about the Nimrodel and the various myths surrounding the Golden Wood, relaying everything Haldir had told me. Every step we took drew me nearer to the one Elf I had ever truly loved.  
Needless to say, I wanted to cry out in joy when Haldir appeared. I desired nothing more than to embrace him, to kiss his plush, red lips, to twine my fingers in his long golden hair. Yet I could not, not while being watched. I was too proud to let the Dwarf know that I, the Ice Prince, was capable of that depth of emotion. For one fleeting moment, the Guardian's brilliant sapphire eyes caught and held mine. I tried to tell him paragraphs of emotions in that fragile second, but he broke his gaze away. He behaved as if we had never even met.  
Numbed, I fell into line with the rest of the Company, my eyes never straying far from Haldir. I wanted to murder Gimli when he refused to don the blindfold, and then I could have beheaded Aragorn when he decreed that the entire Fellowship should enter Lothlòrien blind. Reluctantly, I allowed myself to be led into the city.   
That first night was the loneliest I had ever spent. Frodo and Sam were seeking counsel from the Lady Galadriel (or so I assumed), Merry and Pippin were huddled close together, asleep, and Estel and Boromir… The two Men were undoubtedly relieving their lusts, to judge from the moans and grunts faintly heard from a distance away. Even the Dwarf found comfort and rest. Sleep and solace evaded me entirely. I bitterly wished that I could grieve as Men may do, by spilling forth tears of sorrow. Mithrandir's passing was a nightmare come true, but somewhere along the journey through life, I had lost Haldir as well.   
I watched from afar as Boromir and Estel returned, falling asleep in one another's arms. I saw the Sun rise, spilling liquid light over the beautiful city. The hobbits awoke, merrily talking about food and the deeds of the grandfathers. I did not want to think about food. I did not want to think about anything.  
By midday, I was restless. The hobbits were out and about, mock battling with Boromir. Estel was giving Gimli lessons in Elvish history. I sat up against an enormous tree, whittling a crude figure of the one I loved so well.  
"Your sculptures have not improved," came a dry voice from behind me. I stiffened and froze as Haldir sat down next to me.  
"Neither has your tact," I replied, my stomach tying itself in knots.  
He grimaced and leaned back onto the moss-covered tree. There was a long, awkward silence. "Lord Celeborn informed me about the suicide mission you are participating in," he said brokenly. "I suppose that the spiders in Greenwood proved to be too much of a bore?"  
If there was any acid in his voice, I failed to notice. "Gollum escaped," I said simply. "I was sent to Rivendell to speak to Lord Elrond about it."  
"And the Quest is your way of expressing your guilt complex?" Haldir inquired archly.  
I chose to ignore that question. We both knew it was true. There was little sense in reaffirming it. "Why did you treat me as if we were strangers?" I asked, changing the subject. "Has it been so long since we last parted ways?"  
"Only fifty years," he said languidly, his eyes intently watching me whittle. "But you never replied to my messages, never showed the slightest indication that you wanted 'us' to continue. I did not wish to embarrass you before your comrades."  
I wanted to throw my arms around his neck and hold him, but I could only nod, a lump stuck in my throat, "I apologize," I said, lowering my eyes. "I meant to write, but Father has been delegating more of his duties to his sons. I fear that he may be considering leaving soon."  
"One note would have been enough," Haldir said reproachfully.  
"Dear Haldir," I said, putting down my handiwork. "I regret to inform you that I am a busy Prince, but I would cordially request your presence in Mirkwood immediately to discuss the matter of a royal wedding." I drew a deep breath. "You have my belated message."  
He laughed quietly, picking up my imitation of him. "Who is this supposed to represent?" he questioned.   
I shrugged. "An old friend, someone who I have been out of touch with for fifty autumns. I have something to give to him, but he would call me foolish for harboring romantic notions in these times."  
Haldir's left eyebrow arched up as he drew closer. "Arrogant, yes. I doubt that he would call you foolish. May I see what you would give him?"  
I reached under my shirt and produced a mithril chain. I pulled it up over my head and unclasped the chain, sliding the silver ring of and handing it to the Guardian, our hands brushing a moment longer than necessary. He smiled as he brought it up to his face, mouthing the words inscribed on the ring of betrothal: For Haldir, my love, my light, my soul.  
"I did not want to ask you in this manner," I murmured. "I had it made when you last visited Mirkwood. I… I did not expect you to be recalled so soon, or I would have given it to you then." Once again, I was babbling, and I did not care. "I understand if you do not want this, or if you have another lover -"  
"Legolas," he said gently, sliding the ring on his fourth finger before giving my hand a squeeze. "Nothing would please me more." His other hand cupped my face, forcing me to look into his emerald eyes. Instinctively, I leaned in and closed my eyes, feeling our lips meet in a sweet, chaste kiss.  
"But there are strings attached," I mumbled, breaking the kiss but not relinquishing my grip on his hand. "I might be killed on the way to Mordor. I have no wish to see you engaged to a dead Elf."  
Haldir's eyes mirrored to sadness of my heart. "I am willing to take that risk," he replied. "We are the Firstborn, beloved. We were doomed from the beginning." His voice softened. "I do not think that the Lord and Lady will allow your fellowship to depart in less than a month's time. We have at least that much."  
Again, I wanted to weep, not from sorrow, but from joy. Haldir pulled me closer so that my head was resting on his chest. I fell into my reverie, walking the lands of Elvish dreams at long last.  
The Company left the Golden Wood on month later. Under my shirt and leather jerkin, I wore my own simple silver ring of engagement upon a slender chain of mithril. 


	2. When Dreams End

I should have known that it would come to this. Sauron is now defeated, and Estel – little Estel – is a wise King of Men. After his coronation, I yearned to return to Lòrien to retrieve Haldir and sail across the Sea. I would have taken my leave, had I not been bound in oath to see the caves of Helm's Deep with Gimli, my now steadfast friend, and to take him in return to the majestic forest of Fangorn. Estel was loath for the Fellowship to break a second time, so I kept my silence and took my part in the celebrations. To my delight, the houses of Rivendell and Lothlòrien journeyed forth to Gondor. My mirth quickly faded when Haldir was not to be seen amongst them. One night, Galadriel approached me in my chambers, her clear eyes clouded in sorrow.  
  
"Prince Legolas," she intoned. I bowed respectfully to my kinswoman. "You have seen the Sea."  
  
I nodded. The gulls called to me every dawn, filling me with the desire to abandon all I loved and knew in Middle-earth. "Yes, Lady," I replied, wondering where this conversation would lead.  
  
"Do you intend to leave these lands, now that the Quest is complete?" she asked softly.  
  
A humorless smile taunted my lips. "Lady, I have unfinished business that I must attend to."  
  
"Involving Haldir?" she probed, not unkindly. I felt myself blush.  
  
"With he, and with others."  
  
"Haldir is dead," Galadriel said quietly. I was certain my ears had lied to me.  
  
"Pardon?"  
  
"The Guardian Haldir of Lothlòrien is dead," she repeated, her cerulean eyes searching my face. "There was an attack on our lands. He took an Orc arrow in his chest. I am sorry, Legolas."  
  
It was a lie. It had to be. It was an apparition of Galadriel's mirror, and I was trapped inside of it. I shook my head, wondering if I had drunk too much wine.  
  
In Galadriel's eyes, I did not see pity. I saw understanding. She opened her arms and I fell into them gladly, shutting my eyes and allowing my body to be wracked with tearless, noiseless sobs. It was cruel irony that decreed that I – the youngest Prince of Mirkwood, an expendable member of a desperate Quest, the one who had easily achieved the least in the eyes of the minstrels – should survive the one who was in safer territory and better condition than myself.  
  
Eventually, I gathered my wits and stepped out of the embrace. "Gimli," I croaked. "I vowed to take him to Fangorn. And Ithilien could use an Elf's skill to be made beautiful again…" The ring that Haldir had given me seemed to burn a hole in my chest where my heart lay. "I have duties that I cannot forsake."  
  
Galadriel nodded, then reached into an elegant pouch that hung from her shoulder. "He wanted you to have this, I believe." She did not need to mention who "he" was. The Lady pressed a cold, metal object into my unresisting palm and vanished out the door.  
  
I opened my hand and saw the golden ring of matrimony, the faint inscription on it reading, "Legolas and Haldir. Forever."  
  
I sank into a chair and willed myself to cry, to be mortal, to have the ability to die and forget the injustices of the world. No moisture trickled down my cheek. My path was clear: stay in this cursed realm until I was no longer needed, until Gimli had shown me all of the hateful caves of the world, and then… Then, perhaps, I would allow myself to die of grief. Slowly, I put the ring on the fourth digit of my left hand.  
  
I should have known that it would end this way. 


End file.
